


Age and Experience

by Splix_Archive (splix)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splix/pseuds/Splix_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every action bears a consequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Age and Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/gifts).



> I auctioned a story in the LJ community help_haiti, and Katbear placed  
> the winning bid. This is the first story I've ever written to spec, and I hope  
> she likes it. She's kindly granted permission to share it with other Q/O fans; I  
> hope you enjoy it also.
> 
> Thanks to kimberlite for stellar beta.

A filthy, skeletal hand tugged at Obi-Wan's tunic. "Got two credits, sir? Just two?" The voice that emerged from the shadows was cracked, high and wavering like a drunken shriek-hawk. "Get me transport outa the sublevels. Got a job. Job offer." 

 

A blast of Namana liquor, slightly used, wafted up to Obi-Wan's nose. His eyes watered. "It's difficult to work while intoxicated, don't you think?"

 

"Quit this morning. I swear." The hand groped, palm-up. "Just have to get to my place. Clean up a little."

 

Obi-Wan stepped back, fixing his gaze on his petitioner. It was a woman, he saw now, staring at him from beneath a nest of matted hair with milky, slitted eyes. She might have been a rapidly deteriorating thirty, or a well-pickled eighty; it was impossible to tell. "Perhaps we can help each other. I'm looking for a man called Kiron Leth. I hear he has quarters near here. Is that true?"

 

"Who's asking? Huh?" The woman's voice slipped into a lower register, full of drunken cunning.

 

"Twenty credits for good information." Obi-Wan's conscience jabbed a bony finger into his chest, but he stood firm. It was unlikely that this poor creature would get the help she needed before the Namana killed her, and his need was urgent.

 

"Yeah, he's here."

 

"Where, exactly?"

 

"Don't know where, exactly." The woman's voice dripped scorn. "What am I, his girlfriend?"

 

"One never knows." Obi-Wan pulled some credits from his pocket. "Can you be more specific? It means a great deal to me."

 

The woman licked her lips and stared at the credits. "Yeah. You're walking the wrong way. He's under the power works. Got his lab there, you see? Draws from the works. Plenty of light, heat, and juice. See?"

 

"Yes," Obi-Wan murmured, and pressed forty credits into the woman's dirty hand. He gestured briefly with his free hand. "You no longer desire Namana liquor."

 

"Huh?"

 

Obi-Wan frowned. "You no longer desire Namana liquor," he repeated, waving his hand more firmly.

 

"You a preacher or something? Get away from me. Go on, away!" The woman yanked the credits from his hand and scuttled back into the darkness.

 

Bemused, Obi-Wan straightened and rerouted his steps. Either she was surprisingly strong-minded or the alcohol had fermented her brain past suggestion. Well, she was forty credits richer and he was that much closer to his destination. He counted himself fortunate.

 

 

*

 

 

The Talbor sublevels seemed to have at least ten thousand identical dark, forbidding corridors, each choked with its own unique stench. Obi-Wan breathed shallowly as he crept along the darkened pathway. The toe of his boot came into contact with something soft that seemed to break as he moved forward, and the odor that assailed his nostrils closed his throat and made him want to vomit. He calmed his stomach and moved forward, listening to the unmistakable hum of thermoelectric generators. His quarry was nearby.

 

There was no more time for groping in the dark; a man's life hung in the balance. Obi-Wan came to a halt, closed his eyes, and stretched out with his feelings. The Force surged around him. A picture formed in his mind: not a map, but a tendril of energy that he followed with surety until he came to a heavy door, scabbed with filth, its wheel-lock long rusted shut. Obi-Wan drew his saber and cut through the lock with ease, catching it before it fell to the floor. He pulled the door open, wincing as its hinges whined in protest. He stopped when it was just wide enough to slip inside, and made his way down yet another black, yawning corridor, guided only by the light of his saber.

 

The generators' thrumming was louder now, reaching inside his chest and coaxing his heart into beating in time. Obi-Wan reached out again and caught a faint flicker of life. He wasn't too late. He broke into a run, only to be brought up short at another door. This one closed on simple hinges, though, and he pushed it open with ease. He stepped into the room, blinking at a sudden brightness, and gasped quietly at what he saw.

 

Beneath a bank of lights bright enough for any healer's theater lay a man strapped to a cot. He was naked, gaunt, his face unshaven, his skin unnaturally pale. He was alive, but just barely. Tubes and wires ran from the man's body into an electronic console beside the cot. The man let out a soft moan, and turned his face toward Obi-Wan. It was Gallis Inek, Cygnus Enterprise's chief biotech engineer, a suspected – and now confirmed – victim of the gangster and notorious glitterstim manufacturer Kiron Leth.

 

Obi-Wan took three cautious steps toward the man on the cot. "Engineer Inek," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

 

The man moaned again. His eyes fluttered open, pale blue laced with red, and fixed on Obi-Wan. "Please." His voice was a ragged whisper. "No more."

 

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan reassured the man. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm a Jedi. " He crouched beside the cot, looking for the least painful way to remove the tubes from Inek's body. "We've been looking for you for some time. I'm going to get you out of here, I promise."

 

"Really?"

 

Obi-Wan shot to his feet, saber ignited. That voice had not been Inek's; it was low, deep, amused. "Show yourself."

 

"Certainly." A man stepped beneath the bank of lights. He was slender, clean-shaven, with narrow green eyes that glinted with malicious good cheer. A small remote blinked his right hand. "Oh – a Jedi. How exceedingly intimidating."

 

"Kiron Leth?"

 

"At your service." The man's voice brimmed with sneering solicitude.

 

"You're under arrest." Obi-Wan pointed his saber at Leth. "Drop what's in your hand, please."

 

"I wish I could, what is it – Obi-Wan?" The man smiled. "This is connected to our friend on the cot there. If I drop it, it might well kill him. If it's pried from my hands, there's no telling the damage it might do."

 

Obi-Wan returned the smile coolly. "There's no escape for you, Leth. Set the remote down."

 

"Suppose I refuse? I'm somewhat annoyed, actually. Gallis has been remarkably recalcitrant about sharing his formulae with me. He's a stubborn man."

 

"Then I shall have to subdue you." Obi-Wan ignored Leth's cruel taunt.

 

Leth lifted an elegant blond brow. "I see. I hope you're fast, Jedi. Do you think you can take my life before I take his?" He thumbed a button on the remote, and the man on the cot screamed and arched against the straps.

 

"Stop!" Obi-Wan cried. Rapidly, he scanned the electronic console. If he could short it out before Leth activated the remote again, he might spare Inek more pain. The captive trembled and emitted a faint keening noise. Tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes. Obi-Wan's heart clenched in anger and pity. He strode toward Leth. "Drop it. Now."

 

A dozen bright blue bolts of light flashed. Obi-Wan spun and deflected seven. Two missed their target. Three hit. Obi-Wan dropped to the floor, gasping in agony. His lightsaber rolled out of his hand. He groped for it but failed to find it; his fingers had become suddenly nerveless. He knew he had to move quickly, but everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. His heart beat slowly, thudding in time to the generators. The room looked dim. He felt his arms wrenched behind him, and he was pushed flat to the floor. His consciousness was fading, but he felt long fingers grasp his short tail of hair and yank his head back.

 

"Well," Leth's deep voice said, "that wasn't difficult at all, was it?"

 

 

*

 

 

Three times Obi-Wan had tried to free himself from the electrocuffs that bound his hands behind his back. Twice he had attempted to bring the Force to bear upon them, only to receive a shock that left him stunned; the third time he had tried brute strength, smashing them against the durasteel wall, with the same effect. While he was still reeling from the last shock, Leth had hauled him upright and dragged him to a cot similar to the one on which Gallis Inek still lay. Methodically, he strapped Obi-Wan down and then stepped back, regarding him with folded arms.

 

"You know, I'm beginning to suspect that a great deal of the much-vaunted mystical skills of the Jedi are nothing but fraudulent marketing," Leth said. "I've known a few who have shown extraordinary powers, but I think the reality is eclipsed by the legend. Never mind." He picked up what Obi-Wan recognized as a pain stick. "This hurts far more intensely than the stun cuffs, my young Jedi friend. If you tell me, quickly and concisely, that you ventured in here alone and foolishly, then I shall make your death relatively painless and swift. If not –" He shrugged and thumbed on the pain stick. A deep, insectile buzz arose from it.

 

Obi-Wan swallowed and stifled a shiver of cold, not fear. Leth's hirelings had stripped him naked before cuffing him. He'd called to his master before succumbing to unconsciousness, and now sensed Qui-Gon's presence nearby. "It would be inconvenient to have to move everything, wouldn't it? You're entrenched here. Even the cleverest criminals can become soft."

 

Leth sighed. "I'll ask only once more, young man. Rest assured, you will die. Whether that death proves merciful or otherwise is entirely up to you."

 

"And what if I said that the authorities know I'm here? If I've been tracked? You should run while you still can."

 

"Wrong answer," Leth murmured, and lowered the pain stick, then gasped as the thin end of a talon-whip curled round his wrist, yanking it up. The pain stick dropped to the floor, and the shining green tip of a lightsaber hovered a shallow breath away from piercing Leth's long throat. "Why, Qui-Gon Jinn. It's been far too long."

 

Obi-Wan let himself shiver – in relief this time. He twisted as much as he could to look at the Talborian troopers swarming in the door, dragging Leth's henchmen in at blasterpoint. Two medics hurried to the cot where Inek lay. Obi-Wan turned back to his master and the man he had subdued with such ease. "They must be careful with Inek, Master. Leth's tortured him to the brink of death."

 

"You heard that," Qui-Gon said to the medics. "Use utmost caution. Leth, it would seem that your rehabilitation stint on Telos didn't help you much."

 

"The Telosian officials are more corrupt than the criminals," Leth laughed, though he did not move, for the saber point still hummed at his neck and the talon whip still bound his wrist. "In fact, I had formed a rather lucrative partnership with a former apprentice of yours until he disappeared under mysterious circumstances."

 

"That doesn't surprise me at all." Qui-Gon stepped back as two burly troopers grasped Leth's arms and pulled them behind his back. "You're very fortunate my current apprentice is unharmed."

 

Leth's narrow green eyes widened. "This is your apprentice? Hells. I would have skewered him immediately had I known."

 

Qui-Gon disengaged his saber and hung it at his belt. "Then you should consider yourself even more fortunate." He gestured for the troopers to take Leth away and turned to Obi-Wan, unfastening the straps that held him to the cot. "You are all right, aren't you, Padawan?" He brushed Obi-Wan's cheek with the back of his fingers.

 

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan smiled and let Qui-Gon help him up.

 

"Where are your clothes?"

 

"I'm uncertain, Master."

 

Qui-Gon sighed, then shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over Obi-Wan's shoulders. "We need to find the remote to the stun cuffs." He steadied Obi-Wan to his feet and appealed to the troopers' commander. "Can you help me, please? I need to free my apprentice." 

 

But despite an exhaustive search, the remote could not be found – nor could Obi-Wan's clothes. "Perhaps we can force them open," the commander suggested in desperation.

 

Qui-Gon favored the troop commander with a skeptical look. "You've never tried to tamper with stun cuffs, I take it."

 

"Never even seen them before," the commander admitted with a shrug.

 

"You should consider yourself lucky. Just take us back to our accommodations, please. I'll work something out." Qui-Gon fastened his cloak closely around Obi-Wan's naked and bound body, and ushered him to one of the waiting speeders.

 

 

*

 

 

Obi-Wan sat on the comfortable bed of their assigned quarters, waiting patiently as Qui-Gon sorted through a pack of microtools he'd borrowed from a genial Talborian mechanic. "How long have you known Kiron Leth, Master?"

 

"Ten or twelve years. Half that time he's been in a Telosian rehabilitation center. When I first met him, he was merely trading glitterstim. He wasn't involved in its production. Hold still, please."

 

"And he was a friend of Xanatos. Amazing."

 

Qui-Gon grunted.

 

"It was a good thing you showed up when you did."

 

"Yes."

 

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder. "Having difficulties?"

 

"Hold still, please."

 

"Maybe you need more light."

 

Qui-Gon set down his microinstrument and let out a long, deep sigh. "What I need," he replied with pointed patience, "is for you to listen to what I'm asking of you. I hope that's not too taxing."

 

Obi-Wan blinked. "Sorry, Master."

 

"Perhaps if you'd heeded my counsel, you wouldn't be in this predicament now." Qui-Gon's gaze was focused on the implement in his hand, but the tone of his voice and the knot in his brow left no question as to his mood.

 

"Master, you're not angry with me?" Obi-Wan turned awkwardly on the bed to face Qui-Gon. 

 

"Angry? No. Disappointed – yes, Obi-Wan, I am disappointed." Qui-Gon set the instrument down and met Obi-Wan's gaze. 

 

Obi-Wan drew back a little, for Qui-Gon's eyes kindled with anger, but he lifted his chin and spoke firmly. "Are you angry because I left without you? Master, you were trapped with those bureaucrats – another hour and Gallis Inek might have suffered worse torture – or death."

 

"We were formulating a plan."

 

"You never explicitly said that I shouldn't –"

 

"Are you an initiate, that I must give you explicit instructions at every turn? Please don't insult me, Obi-Wan."

 

"But I found him!" Obi-Wan shook his head, utterly baffled. 

 

"And you were caught in the process. Was that part of *your* plan, Padawan?"

 

"Well – no, but I knew you would hear my call. I knew you would find me." He smiled at Qui-Gon. "If you get these cuffs off me, I'll thank you properly, Master. Unless you'd rather leave them –"

 

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon spoke softly, but he grasped Obi-Wan's upper arm with a ferocity that hurt. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but you put yourself in an untenable position. We weren't certain that it was Leth who was holding Gallis. You have no idea what kind of man he is. There are those who say he once burned a competitor alive by lashing him to the back of a speeder and turning the engine up slowly. Can you imagine how I felt knowing you were his prisoner, Obi-Wan?"

 

"Master," Obi-Wan said in as soothing a tone as he could muster, "nothing happened. Gallis is safe. I am safe. You arrived in time."

 

Qui-Gon's grip tightened. "I won't always be there, Obi-Wan."

 

"Master – my arm."

 

Qui-Gon snatched his hand away and stared at the angry red prints on Obi-Wan's flesh. "I'm sorry, Padawan," he murmured. "Forgive me." He gathered Obi-Wan into his arms and cradled him gently. "I'm sorry."

 

Obi-Wan felt a tightness in his throat, and he nestled into Qui-Gon's embrace, inhaling deeply the scent of familiar skin. "Master…we both know that someday there may be a mission that will claim one of our lives. Or both of them. I know you can't always be there. I know you can't protect me forever."

 

Another heavy sigh emerged from Qui-Gon's chest. "You're still so young, my padawan. Life's uncertainties haven't yet stamped themselves into your heart."

 

"We're Jedi. Our existence is fraught with uncertainty, and I know that only too well. We live in the Republic's service, and we may die in its service, also."

 

"But there's no reason you should die needlessly." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's face in his hands. "I'm still your master. I have the advantage of age and experience, Obi-Wan, and I insist that you not take foolish risks simply because you're impatient and impulsive. What you did today was unwise. You were fortunate to escape alive." Qui-Gon leaned forward and kissed Obi-Wan gently on the mouth. "I would rather we were not parted just yet. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan leaned in for another kiss. "I understand."

 

"Good." Qui-Gon brushed the back of his hand down Obi-Wan's jaw, then gently grasped his chin. "I think perhaps some additional discipline is in order." His free hand stroked Obi-Wan's bare thighs, then trailed up between his legs and curled around Obi-Wan's cock.

 

All at once Obi-Wan felt quite breathless. "What sort of discipline, Master?"

 

"Corporal punishment, I think."

 

"Master, corporal punishment doesn't fall under the Jedi code." Obi-Wan arched his back as Qui-Gon stroked up and down. His bound hands curled into fists.

 

"No. No, it doesn't." Qui-Gon dipped his head and flicked his tongue against Obi-Wan's nipple. "I'm going to put you over my knee, Padawan, and you're going to apologize for your rash behavior."

 

Obi-Wan grinned. "I presume you're not going to take the cuffs off."

 

"You presume correctly." Qui-Gon stifled a smile, moved to the end of the bed, and pointed to his lap, where evidence of his excitement was already most apparent.

 

Licking dry lips, Obi-Wan nodded, and let Qui-Gon position him on his lap. His backside was in the air, his cock pressed hard against his master's thighs, and his toes groped for purchase on the floor. His shoulders ached a little from strain, but he'd sooner face a crawler-sized Rancor than complain. "I'm ready, Master."

 

"Are you?" Qui-Gon gently massaged Obi-Wan's backside, then brought the flat of his hand down with a loud crack on one cheek. Obi-Wan jumped and gasped. "That is for failing to pay attention to the governor's warning about the certain menace of Talborian underworld figures."

 

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan took a breath, but before he could let it out, another strike laid a fiery handprint on the other cheek.

 

"That is for failing to heed my admonition for caution early this morning."

 

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, I –" He bit his lip as the hand descended again, this time across both cheeks. 

 

"That is for leaving our meeting without my permission."

 

"Sorry, Ma –" Obi-Wan stifled a moan as Qui-Gon brought his hand down again.

 

"That is for heading into the sublevels without a local to direct you."

 

Obi-Wan took a breath. "Well, Master, to tell you the truth, there was a woman who –" Another strike silenced him. His toes dug into the lush carpet, and the blood pounded in his head and in his backside.

 

"That's for talking back to me."

 

A hitching laugh came from Obi-Wan's chest. He squirmed with discomfort. "Really, Master, I – ow!"

 

"Are you mocking me?"

 

"Certainly not, Master," Obi-Wan replied humbly. His arse was on fire.

 

"Good." Another blow fell. "Your skin has become positively rosy, Obi-Wan. Pity you can't see it."

 

"There's a mirror in the – oh!" The hand came down again. His trapped cock was so hard it hurt. "Please, Master –"

 

"Please what, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon lightly scraped his nails over Obi-Wan's reddened flesh.

 

Obi-Wan rubbed against Qui-Gon's thighs. The sensation of his stinging arse and aching cock was pure twinned agony. "Please yourself, Master."

 

"So I shall." Qui-Gon struck Obi-Wan again. "That was…well, we'll call it a whim."

 

"Yes, Master."

 

Qui-Gon's hand landed again, hard. "How many is that?"

 

Obi-Wan whimpered; his hands curled onto empty air. "Master –"

 

Another blow. "How many?"

 

"Nine? Ten?"

 

The striking hand felt like durasteel against Obi-Wan's hot skin. "That's for failing to keep count."

 

"You didn't tell me to – ah!"

 

"Insubordination."

 

"Sorry, Master." Qui-Gon's hand must be hurting him by now, Obi-Wan thought. He moaned as another blow fell.

 

"I'd like to hear a proper apology, Padawan."

 

Obi-Wan's breath came in short, sharp gasps. "I'm very sorry, Master. It – it won't happen again, I promise."

 

"Apology accepted, Obi-Wan." Gently, Qui-Gon laid the flat of his hand on Obi-Wan's backside. "You really are wonderfully firm and tight, Obi-Wan. And glowing, too."

 

Obi-Wan felt one long digit insinuate itself between the sore cheeks of his backside and he writhed in response. "Master – now, please, now." Without replying in words, Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan around the waist and heaved him up to the bed, positioning him on his knees, his forehead pressed to a pillow. Obi-Wan heard the sound of fabric pushed aside, then felt Qui-Gon's hand around his cock. He whimpered again.

 

"Almost ready, Padawan?" The voice rumbled from Qui-Gon's chest, deep, amused, and aroused. He spat in his hand and stroked himself, then grasped Obi-Wan's hips and pushed inside in a single thrust.

 

Obi-Wan stifled his cries in the pillow as Qui-Gon's body slapped against his bruised backside. It hurt, it was ecstasy, he was going to come – and then Qui-Gon's hand found his cock and he did come, shouting into the pillow, bucking into Qui-Gon's curled hand. A moment later, Qui-Gon finished taking his pleasure and climaxed with a low cry. They both collapsed to the bed, wet, sticky, and sated.

 

Obi-Wan drifted contentedly. When Qui-Gon rubbed a thumb over the cleft of his chin, he opened his eyes to find Qui-Gon looking at him, deep blue eyes twinkling. "A very handsome chin, Padawan." Qui-Gon traced the outline of Obi-Wan's mouth. "Very handsome indeed."

 

"I do love you, Master. It grieves me that I gave you cause for worry."

 

"I love you, Padawan. And I shall endeavor to be less overprotective in the future." Qui-Gon smiled, and tenderly kissed Obi-Wan's mouth. They lay together for a time without speaking.

 

Finally Obi-Wan raised himself to one elbow, groaning. "Now – back to these stun cuffs, if you please? I'm terribly stiff and sore."

 

"Oh, of course." Qui-Gon moved behind Obi-Wan and fumbled for a moment. The cuffs slid open and fell from Obi-Wan's wrists.

 

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, amazed. "How did you – you don't mean to tell me you could have removed them the whole time?"

 

"Certainly not!" Qui-Gon protested. Then he winked. "Age and experience, my apprentice. Age and experience."

 

 

End.


End file.
